


I Don't Know You, But

by ruethereal



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruethereal/pseuds/ruethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonghyun can really, really sing. Kibum can really, really sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Know You, But

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the failed attempt at plot and any OOC-ness

Jonghyun is drunk.  And with good reason: he’s impossibly old.  No, that’s not exactly right.  He won’t even be 21 for a while.  But he’s maybe, probably, sort of too old to enter the music business.  Well, that’s what the judges at today’s audition told him.  Sure, they also said he can really really _really_ sing, but, walking—or, rather, stumbling—home with the anonymous amount of ddukbokki and mandu (and sausage and takoyaki) and several too many shots of soju sloshing about in his belly, those compliments do nothing but rub salt into the festering wound that is his life’s ambition of getting his voice heard.  Because Jonghyun really really _really_ can sing.

Like he is now.  Jonghyun forgets whose song he’s singing, and, okay, maybe he forgets some of the words, but even with his drunk ears he knows he sounds—

“So noisy!”

Jonghyun’s first thought is, _So pretty_ ; second, _How dare he call me noisy_ ; third, _What?  A boy… so pretty?_

“Who do you think you are?  Wandering around drunk at this time of night, how shameless.”

Even with his drunk ears, Jonghyun can hear the disdain in the boy’s voice.  As haughty as he sounds, there’s a strange, thrilling timbre to the boy’s voice, but Jonghyun blames his shiver on his lack of a decent coat.  Even with the weak orange glow from the street light at the corner (how did he end up here again?), Jonghyun can see the boy’s piercing eyes and delicate cheekbones and angular jaw.  And maybe those features don’t make such sense together, but maybe that’s what makes his face so appealing.

“Well, what about you?” Jonghyun slurs with forced-anger.  “You look like a middle-schooler.  Shouldn’t you be at home studying or something?”

The boy scoffs but says nothing, just walks across the street.  Jonghyun watches him go, and it takes a second for him to realize he should cross, too.  But his legs seem to have disappeared from beneath him.

“Hey, you!” he yells at the boy’s retreating back.  “You’re being rude to your elder!  I asked you a question.”

On the opposite corner, the boy faces Jonghyun.

“I’m entering university, you idiot.”

Jonghyun has half the mind to charge at the younger boy and turn his arms and fists into a windmill of anger, but the other half tells him he probably does look like an idiot, drunk and alone and accosting a stranger.

“And I just finished work.”

Jonghyun’s first thought is, _What kind of job would a pretty boy have so late at night?_ ; second, _Yes, he’s a pretty boy_ ; third, _Oh, that_.

And maybe if the circumstances were different, Jonghyun would think twice.  But as he rushes—as well as his uncooperative legs can carry him—from his corner to the boy’s, he thinks he’s maybe, perhaps, possibly drunk enough and depressed enough to do _that_ sort of thing.

“What do you want?”

Jonghyun wraps his fingers around the boy’s wrist, the skin there buttery and warm.

“Seemed like you were waiting for me,” he huffs with feigned bravado, feeling his face heat up and his tongue swell.  “I have hundred-thousand won.  Is that enough?”

The boy’s eyes widen slightly, but only for a moment before the corners of his lips draw up slowly, provocatively.

Jonghyun thinks, _Dimples._

The boy nods.

 

Jonghyun sobers up remarkably quick, walking the last few blocks to his apartment with the stranger (whose name he has yet to ask for) beside him, their elbows occasionally brushing—and if Jonghyun’s gut churns each time, he tries his best not to show it.  But Jonghyun must still be very drunk, because it isn’t until they’re at his doorstep that he realizes that he just brought a prostitute home with him and all he can think about is whether or not his floor is void of dirty laundry.

His key refuses to go into the lock, or maybe his hand is shaking that violently, but the other boy grabs Jonghyun’s elbow gently.

“Hey.”

“I—what?”

The boy is shaking Jonghyun’s arm, and Jonghyun fears it’ll fall off (but that’s just silly, no matter how drunk he may be).

“We don’t have to do this,” the stranger murmurs.

But the lock finally clicks open, and Jonghyun turns to him.

“I’m Jonghyun.”

The boy tilts his head, appraising Jonghyun curiously, expression unreadable.  Jonghyun doesn’t get uncomfortable easily, but standing there, the still-nameless boy’s eyes roving about his face, he feels like shriveling up and never being in public ever again.  Unwittingly, Jonghyun shivers (he swears it’s from the cold, not the boy’s hand still on his arm).  But the boy laughs, his breath puffing against Jonghyun’s skin.

“Maybe we should go inside after all.”

Maybe Jonghyun laughs with him, or maybe he just snorts awkwardly a little, but he definitely shakes his elbow free from the boy’s grip and replaces it with his hand to tug him through the door.  And maybe Jonghyun doesn’t even wait to lock the door before taking the boy by his shoulders and slamming him against the frail piece of wood, but he definitely crushes their lips together, not caring if his mouth still tastes of street food and cheap liquor because the boy’s fingers are carding through his hair, ghosting down his neck, falling to his shoulders, stripping off his sweater, slithering up his shirt…

But maybe Jonghyun needs oxygen.  Well, he definitely needs oxygen.  And despite the parting of their lips, they don’t separate, foreheads touching, chests flush, hands in places they traveled to unknowingly, knees bumping.  The boy chuckles, his breath hot and damp and filling Jonghyun’s own panting mouth, and Jonghyun gets annoyed that he’s not annoyed at the boy but at himself for letting that sound go to his head and to his groin.

“I’m Kibum.”

Jonghyun breathes him in.

“Kibum.”

 

Their lips meet again, this time soft; tongues, this time tender; teeth, this time gentle.  Though their mouths work sweet and tentative and exploratory, their hands work urgent and haphazard.  And it doesn’t matter that Jonghyun did his chores to some degree and left no clothes on the floor, because the speed at which they’re stripping themselves and each other has the boys catching toes on shirts and careening into the walls as Jonghyun guides them to his bedroom.  Still, this only turns their shared moans and sighs into shared laughter.

They’re already naked when they tumble sideways onto Jonghyun’s tiny bed, legs tangling and hands seeking.  But they swallow their laughter when Kibum mimics Jonghyun’s attack at the front door, taking the older boy by his shoulders to roll them both and skillfully straddling him.  Kibum doesn’t waste a beat, bracketing Jonghyun’s hips with his thighs and wrapping his hands around both of their cocks and stroking them in tandem tight and slow, occasionally pulling off to liberally lick one palm or the other.  Jonghyun arches into the touch, his spine bowed back at a dangerously unnatural angle, but Kibum’s vice-like knees and weight together stay his hips.  He groans his frustration, hands fisting and tearing at sheets he can’t afford to replace.

A warm, teasing chuckle wafts over Jonghyun, and he wrenches his eyes open to glare at Kibum.  But whatever lust-hazed irritation he may’ve felt dissolves at the sight of the younger boy seated comfortably on his lower body, his once-neat bangs damp and clinging to his forehead, his deliciously pouty mouth open, his body all pale and smooth lines.  Jonghyun half gasps, half moans, and for the first time he can remember, he’s glad he doesn’t have curtains, what with the faint light streaming in through his single window and caressing Kibum with an unearthly glow.  Jonghyun feels himself smile, feels his own racing pulse, feels himself grow impossibly harder.  He releases his bedcover in favor of Kibum’s knees.

Maybe it’s this small movement, or maybe it’s the change in Jonghyun’s expression, but Kibum’s eyes soften and he returns the smile before drawing a hand away to take one of Jonghyun’s.  Jonghyun watches in quiet fascination as Kibum guides their hands to his mouth and takes each of their forefingers between his lips.  And maybe Jonghyun’s breath hitches a little in his throat, but it’s only because the feeling is so new—the heat of Kibum’s mouth, the curl of Kibum’s practiced tongue, the thrum of Kibum’s moan—and it takes a while for him to notice Kibum’s switched his other hand to only stroking Jonghyun’s cock.  Not wanting to seem lazy, Jonghyun licks his own palm and fists Kibum’s neglected erection.  The younger boy must be as pleased as he is impressed, because he welcomes a second finger from Jonghyun into his mouth, and Jonghyun doesn’t know how he can, but Kibum smirks around all three digits.

Then everything changes.

Kibum releases Jonghyun’s cock before coaxing Jonghyun’s hand off of his own; Kibum withdraws their fingers from between his lips.  Jonghyun wants to voice his disappointment, but then Kibum plants one hand beside Jonghyun’s temple and hoists himself up, leans forward so he’s on his knees hovering elegant and erotic over Jonghyun, their bodies tantalizingly close without touching.  This close, Jonghyun can feel the heat radiating off the younger boy.  This close, Kibum’s bangs brush Jonghyun’s forehead.  This close, Jonghyun could arch his neck and taste that intoxicating mouth again.

Kibum smiles like he can hear Jonghyun’s thoughts.  But this isn’t reason enough for Jonghyun to blush.  No, a good reason to blush is Kibum using his free hand to guide Jonghyun’s arm around his waist, Jonghyun’s hand to the swell of his ass, Jonghyun’s still spit-slick fingers to his entrance.  And from the glint in Kibum’s eyes, Jonghyun doesn’t need to ask why.  Thinking it better to exercise caution, Jonghyun presses into the ring of muscle with only one finger.  In response, Kibum nudges at Jonghyun’s cheek with his nose.

“You can do better than that,” he laughs against Jonghyun’s jaw.  “Come on, hyung.”

He doesn’t know if it’s because of the boy’s light-hearted goading or his sudden assigning of an honorific, but the same moment Jonghyun turns to steal Kibum’s lips, he adds the second finger.  Kibum hisses, and Jonghyun freezes, afraid he’s done something wrong.  But then Kibum rocks down on Jonghyun’s fingers.

Jonghyun doesn’t need to ask why.

It’s almost too easy, the way they fall into a rhythm—Jonghyun scissoring his fingers, Kibum sliding their cocks together between their sweat and precome-slick bellies—both boys peppering each other’s faces, necks, shoulders with encouraging nips and feathery kisses, both boys using their free hands to brand each other’s flushed, heated skin.  And maybe Jonghyun’s content with this, making the beautiful younger boy moan and pant and breathe his name, drowning in Kibum.  Kibum though…

Jonghyun’s head falls heavily back onto the bed.  He almost wants to whine in protest at the loss of the boy, but Kibum, upright and kneeling, eyes dark and jaw set, hushes him before he gets a chance.  And maybe Jonghyun pouts a little anyway, but Kibum just chuckles throatily before taking three fingers of one hand into his mouth, before offering one finger from the other hand to Jonghyun, who sucks it into his mouth eagerly.  And maybe Jonghyun is a little obnoxious, quickening his fingers in the boy while devouring the boy’s finger, making Kibum positively squirm above him.

But Kibum allows Jonghyun little time to relish in his triumph, pulling his fingers from his own mouth with a filthy, obscene wet pop and returning them to Jonghyun’s cock, squeezing hard enough Jonghyun feels the silent chide: _I know what you’re up to_.  Jonghyun’s hand falters and he possibly, sort of, probably bites Kibum’s finger, but the younger boy’s yelp is immediately replaced with laughter.  Jonghyun offers a silent truce, fingering Kibum in time with the boy’s stroking of his cock.  But then Kibum withdraws his finger from Jonghyun’s mouth, arches back, reaches around himself.  Jonghyun can’t see it, but he definitely feels it: Kibum adding his own finger alongside Jonghyun’s two.

“Don’t stop, stupid,” Kibum pants.

Jonghyun’s eyes refocus slowly, and he’s both surprised and proud with himself for not coming just watching what Kibum’s doing, feeling what Kibum’s doing, _knowing_ what Kibum’s doing.  And maybe he still takes too long for Kibum’s liking, because Kibum rolls his palm on the head of his cock and it’s Jonghyun’s turn to yelp—Kibum’s still the only one laughing.  But he makes no argument (even to being called ‘stupid’ by someone younger than him who’s still essentially a stranger but… well, Jonghyun can think these things over later), just obeys, and together, they fuck Kibum open.

And maybe Kibum’s moaning a bit loud, and maybe Jonghyun vaguely remembers that his walls are a bit thin, but that’s just one more thing to add to his list of things to think—or, maybe, worry—over _later_ , because right now, Jonghyun only wants Kibum to keep making those delicious, toe-curling, needy noises.  So Jonghyun wraps his free hand around Kibum’s leaking cock.

“No, don’t,” he gasps.  “I don’t want to—not yet.”

“I—then—what!” Jonghyun whines.  “I’ve never—I don’t—”

And this time, Jonghyun does get a little angry, because how the hell can Kibum be laughing at him in this sort of situation?  But Jonghyun finds himself instantly forgiving the boy when Kibum laves his cock with another licked palm, eases out both of their fingers, scoots his body ever so slightly higher on Jonghyun’s, and positions Jonghyun at his entrance.  Their eyes, equally wide and anticipatory, lock and Jonghyun swears they’re both holding their breath.

Jonghyun’s first thought is, _It’s not working_ ; second, _Why isn’t it going in?_ ; third, _Oh, shit—this—it’s_ —

One second, all he feels is Kibum’s hand holding his cock steady, Kibum’s other hand splayed on his chest, Kibum’s weight; the next, the excruciatingly slow stretch around the head of his cock, the quivering of Kibum’s thighs, the punishing heat and pressure.  It’s slow going, but amid thoughts of _so hot, so beautiful, so good_ , Jonghyun also realizes that Kibum’s grimacing with his bottom lip between his teeth, that he’s burrowing his fingernails into Jonghyun’s skin.  Jonghyun doesn’t know if it’s from concentration or from pain, but fearing it’s likely the latter, he puts his hands to use, ghosting them along the boy’s thighs, up his sides, down his arms.

“Does it hurt?” he breathes, hoping he doesn’t sound too unconcerned because, although Kibum is so tight it borders on painful, it feels incredibly good.

Again, Kibum seems to hear Jonghyun’s thoughts, snorting shakily.  But he manages a half-smile anyway and twines his fingers with Jonghyun’s.

“I’m fine.”

Kibum’s assurance has Jonghyun only half-convinced.  No, what convinces Jonghyun is the disappearance of Kibum’s hand from his cock as the boy bears down on him fully, the experimental roll of Kibum’s hips, the sharp gasp of Jonghyun’s name.  Kibum stares down at him, eyes out of focus, chest stirring in time with his shallow breaths.  Jonghyun raises his free hand to thumb the tender flesh between chin and throat.

“How is it?” he murmurs.

Kibum nods, using the motion to maneuver the tip of Jonghyun’s thumb into his mouth, and, taking it as a good enough affirmative, Jonghyun cants his hips, pressing further into the boy.  This time, it’s Kibum who bites Jonghyun, it’s Jonghyun who chuckles.

“That, too?”

Kibum, still silent, just nods again and pulls off of Jonghyun slightly.  But before he can reseat himself, Jonghyun thrusts up to meet him.  Caught by surprise, Kibum’s mouth falls open with a long-drawn moan and Jonghyun lowers his now-free hand to the boy’s waist.

“That, too?”

“Sh-shut up,” Kibum grits.  “Don’t sound so smug.”

So he says, but Kibum brings Jonghyun’s other hand to his waist.  Jonghyun correctly guesses that he’s been forgiven and so smiles up at the younger boy.  Kibum drops his hands to Jonghyun’s shoulders and half-sneers.

“I’m going to move.”

“Wh—?”

Kibum doesn’t waste time to explain.  Instead, he tightens his grip on Jonghyun’s shoulders and lifts his hips, lets Jonghyun slide out of him until it’s only the head of his cock before lowering himself once more.  Caught off guard, Jonghyun can do nothing but let Kibum ride his cock like this, once, twice, his head thrown back against the bed, fingers burrowing into Kibum’s sides.  Then Jonghyun comes to his senses.  Redoubling his grip on the boy’s waist, the next time Kibum draws off of him, Jonghyun thrusts back into the boy.  They moan in unison, impossible to tell when Kibum’s ends and Jonghyun’s begins.

Jonghyun receives a drunken smile and sloppy kiss to his cheek for his efforts.  But it’s enough for Jonghyun, falling into the rhythm Kibum has set for them, slow and full and deep.  But neither forgoes the energy or breath, both finding it essential to say each other’s names despite their mutual inability to stutter or pant or groan anything past the first syllable.

Again asserting his control, Kibum sits up once more, the change in angle driving Jonghyun impossibly deeper.

“Ki—”

Kibum pays Jonghyun no mind, just slides his hands from the older boy’s shoulders to his wrists, urging Jonghyun’s bruising fingers from his waist to twine them with his own.  Kibum guides their hands to his mouth, kissing the seam of skin where one palm meets the other, where fingers lock and lose where they begin or end.

Jonghyun stares up at Kibum, eyes wide and struggling to focus.  Everything about the younger boy is overwhelming.  Too tender, too beautiful, too knowing, gentle, controlling, seductive.  Jonghyun doesn’t know what to pay attention to.  The comforting press of Kibum’s lips, the thrilling neediness of Kibum’s moans, the obscene friction of Kibum’s molten skin and his.  As if from a long way away, Jonghyun registers Kibum moving his other hand, Kibum panting his name (or at least the first syllable of it).

“J-Jong—please—now.  Touch me, please.”

Jonghyun stops only to card his fingers through Kibum’s hair before obeying, shakily fisting the boy’s neglected cock in time with the boy's rising and falling hips.

“I—shit—I’m going to—”

 _Too much_ …

Kibum’s hips stop abruptly, and Jonghyun watches the boy throw his head back, the pale column of his neck sweat-damp and tensing in a voiceless shout, feels each pulse of the boy’s cock even as he continues moving his hand, the boy erratically, almost-excruciatingly clenching around him.  Kibum’s head finally falls forward, his chin tucked to his chest, his breathing labored.  But Jonghyun doesn’t wait.  He unsticks his hand from Kibum’s spent cock, frees the fingers of the other hand from Kibum’s now-loose grip to reclaim the boy’s waist.

“I’m going to move.”

… _but not enough_.

Too impatient and too close, Jonghyun makes no effort at rhythm or finesse, just thrusts into the pliant boy.  Still, Kibum makes several half-hearted attempts at reciprocation, propping himself up with both hands splayed across Jonghyun’s chest and rocking feebly.  Jonghyun stares at Kibum, the boy’s eyes squeezed shut for once, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.  And it’s enough.

“Fuck—Ki—”

Jonghyun arches against Kibum’s weight, buries himself in the younger boy, feels himself fill the already-hot, already-slick, fucked-open body above him.

Kibum collapses on him, and Jonghyun doesn’t even care that Kibum’s come is cooling and tacky between their bellies, that the tang of sweat is sharp in the air.  Kibum burrows his nose against the spot below Jonghyun’s ear.

“Was that worth a hundred thousand won?”

Jonghyun groans his assent, folding his arms loosely around Kibum’s lower back.

“I guess you can’t put a price on your first time, anyway.”

“I _told_ you I haven’t done this before,” Jonghyun mutters, sure he’d be blushing if he wasn’t so hot all over.  “I can’t help it if it wasn’t great.”

Kibum angles his face to kiss the corner of Jonghyun’s mouth, saying, “Oh, don’t worry, it was great.  I meant for my first time.”

Jonghyun bothers to return the gesture, giving Kibum’s lips a soft, dry peck before jerking away from the younger boy.

“ _Your_ first time?  Wh-what are you talking about?”

Kibum rolls off of Jonghyun then, smothering his laughter with a fist.  Numbly, Jonghyun sits up and stares down at the other boy.

“You—I thought—why did you—you aren’t—I don’t even—”

Kibum laughs for what feel like an eternity.  And even when he stops, Kibum’s eyes are impish, over-bright.

“No, Jjong-hyung, I’m not a _prostitute_.”

“Then—then why!” Jonghyun’s eyes are burning with tears of shame.  “You… You don’t know me.  That’s so d-dangerous—”

Kibum hushes him and sits up, touching their knees together.

“You baby,” Kibum murmurs, brushing his fingertips across one of Jonghyun’s damp cheeks.  “I know I don’t know you.  But I heard you singing and you looked so upset and I thought…”

“Huh?”

Jonghyun’s eyes are as confused as they are bleary.

“I’ll be the one who’ll love you.”

It’s Kibum’s turn to maybe-blush.  That is, until the older boy blurts,

“You _love_ me?”

Kibum slaps the side of Jonghyun’s sweaty (and maybe empty) head.

“Hey—!”

“You idiot,” Kibum laughs, placing his hands on Jonghyun’s thighs and leaning forward so their faces are an eyelash apart.

Jonghyun’s breath catches, but that’s okay, because Kibum breathes into him:

“I don’t yet, but I will.  And when I do, you’ll never cry and sing at the same time again, you understand?”

“Ki—”

“You understand?”

Jonghyun half-sniffles, half-chuckles before nodding so enthusiastically their foreheads knock together audibly.

“Stupid—”

Jonghyun silences Kibum with a kiss.

“You baby.”


End file.
